Want . . .

I know my last post was a bit dark. I feel like I should apologize but I am not going to apologize for how I am feeling. It is what it is.

It seems like Christmas for my family this year is carrying on like it always has. I really don't expect people to not celebrate because scrooge here doesn't. It would be nice if everything could be changed up and different so I don't feel the absence of my sweet girls as much.

I dreaded the question, "What do you want for Christmas?" Because what I truly want cannot be given. And that hurts so much.

My reflex response is, "I want you to go up to Heaven, get Emmerson and Vivienne and bring them back to me."

I stop myself before I actually utter those words. I stop because I know it is an unrealistic expectation to be jotted down on a wish list. I stop myself because I cannot stand to see the pity look on another's face.

So, instead I list off items that I don't really want or need. In fact, I actually cannot remember a single thing I said I wanted. I wish now, I would have had the energy to tell them nothing. Give whatever you would have bought for me or the money you would have spent to someone who truly needs.

You see, I am in deep pain but I am still aware of the blessings that surround me. I may grieve my girls but it doesn't mean that I also am not thankful for what I do have.

I think some people find it necessary to point out all the good in my life when I cry over what I have lost. I don't need someone to do that! In that moment I need a shoulder and an ear to listen. I know what I have! Trust me, missing my girls doesn't make me blind to what surrounds. And when someone points out a blessing in the moment a tear drops, it makes me feel like my loss does not matter. That their lives were not worth something. That I am not allowed to grieve sweet, innocent Emmy and Vivi because I have a living, breathing blessing in my arms.

This Christmas, it is dark for me but it does not take away the fact that I can see glimmers of light. It doesn't mean that I don't count my blessings.

This Christmas, just because I don't want to celebrate in the ways of year's pass, does not mean that I don't turn to the Heaven's and notice the Light that transcends all and gives hope.

Hope . . . that is all I need.

Hope . . . that there is a true end to all suffering.

Hope . . . that I will see my girls again.

Hope . . . that I will bow before my King and give thanks for all that has been given.




Stephanie

Words

Do you remember when you were younger and your mom would say, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all?

I do. I have changed it up a bit though to fit my current circumstance. Many people have said things to me, meaning well, but really come across insensitive, uncaring and rude. I know their intentions are good and that they are trying. I am thankful and grateful for their kind spirit, even when the words are wrong and wound.

How would I change that saying made famous by mothers everywhere?

If you don't know what to say, how to comfort with words, don't say anything at all. 

I know people have meant well. I know they are trying to help heal with their words.

Sometimes their words wound more than they help.

I have had some pretty awful things said to me.

Here are some things I have heard on a regular basis.

• You can always have another baby.
• Be thankful you did not get to take them home with you.
• They probably would have been sick so they are better off in heaven.

Let me assure you, those words do not comfort. They hurt. They diminish my loss. They diminish the lives of my sweet girls.

I pray that we will be able to have more children. If we are blessed with more, those future lives will NEVER replace Emmerson and Vivienne. They were unique, loved individuals and nothing and no one will ever replace them.

I do not understand how and why people will say to someone who has just lost a baby or a pregnancy, You can always have more children. That is never uttered to a mother who has lost a five year old or a twenty-three year old child. Why? Why then is it spoken to a mother who has suffered a loss before there was a chance to live? Babies are people. They are wanted and loved.

It is human nature to want more. I would have loved to have had the chance to take them home. Create more memories. Had more time with them. More time to kiss, to hug, to love.

It has been said that my loss would have been greater if I would have brought them home. I don't know that. I know I would have had more memories of them. Some of my wonderings about them would have been answered. The question marks sometimes hurt more.

Loss is what it is. The words breathed intended for comfort doesn't make the love less. My loss is neither less or more than someone who lived more of life with their child. My love for them is not less or more based on the time spent.

It is quite simply, uniquely, and intricately, love.

Here are the things that wrap my heart up in a blanket with comfort.

• Call anytime, day or night. I am always available to listen.
• After I have cried and poured my grief out through words,  there are no words. I don't know what to say.
• I would love to hear about Emmerson and Vivienne. 

When someone has acknowledged my loss, they first acknowledged that I loved.

It is this Mother's love that makes the heart weep.

Stephanie